


Chips

by ThunderFrost2012



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1853, Chips - Freeform, Fluff, Invention, M/M, New York, tiny temptations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 08:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20387029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderFrost2012/pseuds/ThunderFrost2012
Summary: It's 1853.  One of Crowley's missions brings some interestant results. And he wants a certain angel to know about that.And it's impossible to say no to a demon!So how will Aziraphale react?





	Chips

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, everything belongs to those wonderful angels/demons named Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (R.I.P. :’( )  
What can I say? After reading so many fanfictions (I loved them all, give me time and tons of comments will arrive <3 ) these are the side effects.  
I’ve never thought I would dare to write about them, to play with such perfect characters (and to make a disaster, probably!) but it happened and it wasn’t even planned.  
And it was supposed to be shorter than this, but those two did the hell/the heaven they wanted, lol.  
* Apologies to everyone, also for my bad English, I’ve tried my best *  
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, everything belongs to those wonderful angels/demons named Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett (R.I.P. :’( )  
What can I say? After reading so many fanfictions (I loved them all, give me time and tons of comments will arrive <3 ) these are the side effects.  
I’ve never thought I would dare to write about them, to play with such perfect characters (and to make a disaster, probably!) but it happened and it wasn’t even planned.  
And it was supposed to be shorter than this, but those two did the hell/the heaven they wanted, lol.  
* Apologies to everyone, also for my bad English, I’ve tried my best *

Aziraphale was all engrossed changing the disposition of the books on one of the highest shelves in a way that would prove to be more congenial.  
Alphabetical order? Way too banal. Chronological? He had already grown tired of that.  
He had opted for an ascending order of the thickness of the covers. Surely it wouldn’t be an easy job and it would have taken him millions of hours to get it done.  
After all, he had eternity.

Something, or rather someone, wouldn’t have allowed him to go on with his ineffable project. At least, not that evening.  
Above-mentioned someone, comfortably ignoring the ‘We’re closed’ sign hanging on the door and unlocking the deadbolt from inside with a little demonic miracle of his own, made his triumphal entrance; with such a rush that he lifted a powerful gust of wind.  
It made all the pages of the open books tremble, making the tiniest one lose its balance and fall down from the shelf, right into the angel’s timely arms.

“Oh, Good Lord, Crowley! Is this the proper way to step in my place?” the blond-haired one sighed, putting the little book back to its place.  
“If course, it is the fucking proper way!” the demon shrugged, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “So, how long are you going to be so busy doing your book-not-seller stuff?”  
“I’m going to be this busy for years, maybe even for centuries!” Aziraphale meticulously replied, going on with his pleasant activity.  
“Not tonight, angel!”

Saying so, the demon snapped his fingers and the ladder his enemy/friend was using faded away. The unfortunate angel inevitably fell on the floor.  
“Ouch! Geez, are you out of your mind?”  
“It’s not really the way I would like to see you fall…” Crowley grumbled, in a mix of irony and something else that the angel did not get. “But it was fun anyway!” he chuckled.  
“I believe that you’re getting way too much pleasure from other people’s pain!” the angel laboriously got up, massaging the damaged bottom.  
“Demon, here!” the red-haired one defended himself, seraphic. “And, for the records. You are not a person!” he pointed out, making the other roll his eyes. “However, you’re making such a bloody fuss about a tiny, little dent … it’s not that I dematerialized you!” he snorted.

“Well, if you’re done putting in jeopardy my bookshop and me, could you bother to tell me what you’re doing here?” Aziraphale – already as good as new - asked him. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you again, my dear!” he added, with his unavoidable affability.  
“Actually, it’s been some months … or years, who recalls? Whatever, I’m working in the States right now, a little mission, nothing important.” the demon informed him with a gesture of his hand. “But it’s bringing some interesting results.”  
“Is it?” the other grew curios.  
“Yep. Let me show that during a dinner. After all, I still owe you one since…”  
“Paris 1793. Actually, I’m still waiting…” the angel pointed out, insulted in his self-regard… assuming that angels have self-regard.  
“So, what better occasion to keep my word?” Crowley tried to tempt him.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe I’m eating way too much and, actually, I don’t even need to do that…” Aziraphale grumbled, staring at the floor.  
“What the heaven are you babbling about?”  
“Gabriel. I’ve got demerits from him. He thinks I should do more exercise and make myself less… flabby.” the blond-haired creature went on, touching his belly with dishonor.  
“And do you really pay attention to that emeritus asshole and his fucking crap?” the demon snapped.  
“Mind your language, Crowley! At least in my bookshop!” the other imposed on him.  
“I won’t until you stop saying bullshit!” he retorted and then his tone grew softer. 

He approached the angel, lifting up his chin with two fingers in order to make the other watch him. “You are simply perfect, just the way you are. You don’t have to change. Quite the contrary, to see you eating is one of the things that most make me happy.”  
As if by magic, a smile lightened up the awesome angel’s face again and he didn’t feel awkward anymore.  
“Well, when you put it that way…” he vacillates, but he did not stop smiling at the red-haired creature. “Where do you want to take me out?”

Just enough time for a snap of fingers and the two enemies/best friends found themselves in New York, in broad daylight, in front of a restaurant.  
Aziraphale managed to read the sign from afar.  
“Moon Lake Lodge… why did you bring me here?” he turned to Crowley, frowning.  
“Okay, it’s not a dinner, it looks more like a lunch but it’s the same, isn’t it? Let’s go!” Crowley shrugged, grabbing Aziraphale by the hand, in order to rush through all the people who crowded the entrance.

For some (demonic) reason, those two already found a table booked for them. Or rather a table under the name of Crowraphale.

“Don’t you think that our names blended together sound bloody good?” the demon hazarded a comment with fake innocent attitude. “Maybe in a couple of centuries this stuff will become fashionable!”  
The angel kept staring at him, without a single word.  
“What’s wrong? Did you prefer Azley? Next time, maybe!” Crowley went on.  
He was becoming nervous because of the angel’s silence.  
“It’s not that I ‘m not appreciating all this stuff, my dear, really… but why did you bring me here?” the angel wondered again, while he looked around, curiously.

Yeah, sure, it was a very elegant restaurant, with parquet and false ceiling in a bright wood, maybe made from walnut.  
It was large, with comfortable chairs, columns, marble objects and several tables, all taken.  
But it was a restaurant, as a million of other ones.  
He did not understand what could make it so special.  
Except for being there with Crowley, of course.

He saw a waitress walking towards them and Crowley started to place orders, without even consulting him.  
Crowley asked for something he hadn’t ever heard about before and Aziraphale wondered about what it could have been.  
Chips. It sounded so funny.

Finally, the demon began to dispel at least one of the mysteries.  
“Few days ago, I was here due to my job; I had to make the chef of this restaurant commit a sin in the name of Wrath. There was the proper chance to do that, because there was this impossible customer who sent a side dish of potatoes back, saying that they were too big to eat.”  
“Oh, that’s such an unpleasant thing to do!” Aziraphale sentenced.  
“So I unsheathed all my demonic mastery and I urged the chef to seek revenge: I wanted him to bring the hateful customer something impossible to eat. That’s why he began to slice the potatoes so thin that they reminded me to that stupid stuff Churches use every Sunday…”  
“My dear, don’t be so disrespectful towards the Holy Bread our Supreme Chief’s son!” the angel retorted. “That’s fine, maybe it’s been six thousand years ago, but you’ve been an angel, too…”  
“That’s not the bloody point!” Crowley pointed out, while he swung with the chair, growing nervous. “It was an example, in order to make you understand how thin they were! And guess what he did? He fried these slices of potatoes in a tons of boiling oil and covered them with salt!”  
“Oh no, please, tell me he didn’t dare to serve on the table such a disgusting thing!” the blond-haired creature grew worried.  
“Hell yeah he did! And you have no idea what the customer told him!” the red-haired creature teased him.  
“Nope, please, spare me a long list of ugly insults…” the angel wavered, but the demon was determined to inform him, anyway.  
“He told him he’d never eaten something so delicious!”  
“What? How can it be possible?” the other wondered. The amazement made him open wide his blue eyes.  
“Seeing… or rather tasting is believing; my distrustful angel!” Crowley winked.

Maybe it was pure coincidence or maybe it was another little demonic miracle, but the waitress brought the side dish of chips to them.  
Aziraphale studied them deeply: first with the sight, filling his eyes with that bright golden yellow that reminded him of the sun; he smelled their inebriant scent, he touched the consistence, hot and crunchy. He blew shyly on one of them and brought it to his mouth. 

Once he tasted that unknown food, he emitted such pleasure-loving squeals that sounded like a music to Crowley’s lustful ears.  
He daydreamed about making the angel emit those moans in other areas of interest; without involving food; maybe under the sheets of a bed. His bed.

“See? Told you so! Well, in a sense, if this thing now exists … it’s thanks to me!” he beamed proudly, taking a handful of chips to munch them.  
“They should take you back to Heaven because of this indescribable scrumptiousness!” the angel jabbered, while he ate them one after another.  
“Just eat and stop saying craps!” the demon laughed scornfully. “However, even if I failed with Wrath, I can always resort to Pride. In a bunch of weeks this chef will believe he’s the better one in the whole universe, he’ll fire everyone and aim to such high levels that can only bring him to smash himself to pieces!” he plotted, devilishly.  
“Not if I put it in a good word for him!” the angel struck back, while he kept munching.  
“Not if I put it in a good word for him!” Crowley mocked him, but, at the very end, he was amused, well aware that he would have allowed him to have that soul.  
He would have allowed his angel to have anything.

Despite the huge portion, they finished the chips, but Crowley was faster, grabbing first the very last one.  
“Crowley!” the angel pouted, annoyed.  
The demon challenged him, lowering his dark sunglasses a little bit to stare at him with his snakelike eyes.  
“Do you want it, angel? So come and get it!” he hissed, holding one extremity of the craved chip with his teeth.

Not intimidate at all, Aziraphale pulled him closer and started to eat the first half of the chip. Crowley ate the other one and their mouths ended up meeting each other.  
A soft and salty meeting that confined itself only to the contact of their lips. Totally innocent and yet sinful at the same time.  
Aziraphale lingered on those demonic lips longer than necessary, because they had already eaten the last chip minutes ago.

It was only thanks to the very dark lens of his sunglasses that he had already set again on his nose if Crowley managed to hide his amazement, mingled with happiness.  
Even if reluctantly, he was the first one to part from the other.  
Crowley knew it was better not to push his luck. After all, he had plenty of time to wait for his angel and that could be already considered a very important conquer.

“You know, my dear, even if they’re incredibly salty, this is surely the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” the angel murmured with a smirk, before pouring the vine for both of them, as if nothing happened.

Crowley pretended to ignore what he had said, but deep inside his heart he had already elected chips as his favorite food.  
Chips would have been also Aziraphale’s favorite food for a while. After all, no one had invented crêpes yet.  
He still had to wait about still half century for that.  
And maybe Crowley would have found a proper way to use them, too.

\---  
THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes (if you care to read them)  
\- One night I was in a restaurant waiting for French fries (it’s always such a happy moment ahah ) and I thought ‘If Azi and Cro fought for a French fry and ended up sort of kissing like ‘The Lady and The Tramp’ it would be soooooo damn cute!!’  
So I started to write, but I wanted to be as accurate as possible, so I did a research about the chips and I decided to use them instead of French fries, it could work anyway; because, really, if you read the real story of its invention, Crowley could really have something to do with that, lol. XD  
\- Oh, please, the shipping names must be some demonic invention, of course! XDD By the way, I just love ‘Ineffable husbands’ it’s perfect for them <3  
\- Sorry for the huge fluff and thanks for reading, I hope they don’t sound OOC *bites her nails*


End file.
